The wash

Our washer is on the fritz and every time we do a load of laundry water just pours all over the floor. Being a holiday weekend the repairman can’t come out until next week. So this afternoon I piled all of the laundry into the basket and headed out for the laundromat not too far from our house. I parked, grabbed the heaping basket, and headed inside. Trying to balance the laundry and open the door at the same time, a rough-around-the-edges gentleman blocked my way. “Can I ask what you’re doing here?” he inquired. Resisting the temptation to respond “Well it’s a laundromat so obviously I’m here for your much needed six-month dental cleaning, you idiot,” I simply tried to walk past. He in turn took a step sideways to block my entrance. It was instantly apparent that he had seen this move in Road House, Cocktail, Coyote Ugly, or any other crappy film that takes place in a bar. I started to think that maybe this was an exclusive laundromat where you have to tell the doorman a secret code like “spin cycle” or “What a big load you have.” I wasn’t sure how to proceed because glancing at the man he looked like a cross between Willie Nelson and Tony Danza with the jiggly neck of a 103 year old woman. I held up the basket with both hands as though I were offering up a sacrifice to the fabric softener gods. He must have been pleased with my offering as he nodded and let me pass by.

I set down my basket as far away from the gentleman as I could and went to get some change for the washers. I instantly discovered that all I had in my wallet was a $20 bill, an Olive Garden gift card, and a random spearmint Tic Tac. Strange. So I slide the money in and instantly quarters start spitting out like I’ve hit the progressive jackpot on a slot machine at the Bellagio. Unfortunately the section of the machine that is engineered to catch the coins must have been designed by a moron as no more than four quarters would ever fit. Naturally quarters start spilling all over the floor, rolling under machines and I’m standing there trying to catch as many as I can as though delicate tea cups have started raining from the sky. I looked like some sort of retarded Michael Flatley doing a Native American rain dance. Of course this draws the attention of my new best friend and he rushes over bellowing “What did you do??” I don’t even answer him. Instead I just start handing him fistfuls of quarters to free up my hands to get the rest of them as they bounce out. I finally collect all of the change and walk back to my laundry with my mountains of money with my head held down in embarrassment, looking like a dejected pirate.

I divide up all of the laundry among three washing machines and find a seat to wait for what the display on the machine states will be 43 minutes. I sit down with a book and unsuccessfully try to read a bit. You know it’s not going to work out when you reread a page six times and you still can’t remember what you just read. I close the book and begin to do a little people watching. It is instantly apparent what made my new BFF so rambunctious. As he was folding his clothes with one hand he was drinking a can of Bud Light with his other. After craning my neck to examine a bit more I discover that he has an entire 12 pack of beer. For every article of clothing he folds, he takes two sips of beer. It’s like a drinking game for the Martha Stewart crowd.

Off in the corner near me is a couple in their early 20’s with their arms tightly around each other, giggling and whispering what I can only assume to be their favorite lines from the Twilight books. Something about nightfall and being only human. I don’t get it. It was at that moment that I wished a vampire with rank breath and Hepatitis B would just come down and put me out of my misery. As if it couldn’t get any worse, they then begin to make out right there pressed up against the coin-operated detergent dispenser. I don’t care how horny you are, the laundromat would be one of the last places you should get it on. I’d put it right up there with a Hardee’s restroom and your grandmother’s funeral. I had to excuse myself from this Real World-like scene and check on my wash cycle. Only 37 minutes to go. You can down a lot of Bud Light and another person’s saliva in that amount of time. Trust me, I saw it all.